Growing Up Too Fast

I thought I'd give the F/m scenario a try. If any of you
are upset by a teenage boy getting spanked, move on to the next message. Of
course, if you're disturbed by any stories about spanking, sign off of the internet
and just go to bed. Any questions, complaints, and comments should be forwarded
to: secretgirl_33@yahoo.com Enjoy!

* * *

He pulled the car over to the curb where a group of prostitutes were huddled.
He turned down Pink Floyd, which was blasting out of his car stereos. He
rolled down the window, and a tall, slender black woman approached his car,
swinging her hips seductively.

"Lookin' for a date?" she said, leaning down and looking into the window.

"Yes," he said, nervously.

She looked into his eyes, and then sighed.

"You've got to be kidding me!" she suddenly exclaimed. "How old are you?"

"25," he said, defensively. She shook her head and walked back to the group.
"Hey!" he called. "I have money!"

He sat in the car, feeling like a complete doofus. Should he follow her? She
was onto him; he wasn't really 25. Just as he was getting ready to get out of
the car, another woman from the group approached his car.

"I'll take you on," she said, and he unlocked the door.

He watched her lean, muscular legs as she climbed into the car. As she put
her seatbelt on, he noticed how small and slender her hands were. She put her
purse down on the floor and looked at him.

"Are we going to go or what?"

"I-, I only have $200," he said, nervously.

"That's fine," she said.

"I'm not from around here- do you know any local motels or hotels?" he said.

"Aren't you staying somewhere?" she said.

"Well, I'm here on business, and I just got in from the airport. I didn't
want to be alone tonight," he said, his voice shaking. He hoped she wouldn't
ask any more questions. He really hated lying.

"Turn right here," she said. "There's an inexpensive but nice motel that some
of my clients take me to."

She didn't say much outside of giving him directions to the motel, but he
could feel her watching him. A couple of times, he glanced at her and noticed
her soft, gray-blue eyes. She wasn't wearing much make-up. He assumed because
she really didn't need any; she had a flawless, pink and white complexion.

He parked in the motel parking lot and checked in. He didn't say anything to
her as they walked to the room together. He let them both in and then hung up
the "Do Not Disturb" sign and locked the door.

"Do you have a name?" she said, suddenly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Matt."

"So, Matt, how old are you?"

"25?" Matt said, trying to mask the nervousness in his voice.

"Okay, honey, how old are you, really?"

"25. I swear," he said, sounding even younger than he actually was.

"Let's see some ID," she said, and he pulled out the fake ID he used all the
time to buy beer of himself and his friends. It confirmed his age at 25.

She stared at it, skeptically, and then took a pair of scissors out of her
purse.

"Hey!" he cried, as she cut it up.

"Let's see some real ID," she said, her gentle voice becoming very firm, and
almost parental.

"That was-,"

"You're not going to pull the wool over my eyes, Hon," she said. "Let's see
it."

Matt nervously pulled out his driver's license, which confirmed his real age.
He handed it to her with a trembling hand, praying she wouldn't call the cops,
who would call his mother. She sighed and shook her head.

"Sixteen?" she said, raising her eyebrows. He flopped down in the chair.

"I'm old enough. Prostitution is illegal, anyway, so we're both busted if you
call the cops," he said, defensively.

"Who said I was going to call the cops?" she said. "I'm just wondering what a
kid like you would want with a prostitute."

"You know-," he said. "Sex."

"What year of high school are you in, Matt?"

"I'm a sophomore," he said, looking down at his hands. "Why?"

"Got a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Hate school?"

"Not really. I mean, it's okay."

"How do you do?"

"What do you mean?" Matt said.

"How do you do in school?"

"Well enough. I made honor roll last semester," he said.

"Are you here on a dare?"

"No."

"Then why are you in a backwoods motel with a prostitute?" she said. "You
don't look like the type who's bound for jail or minimum wage for the rest of
his life. So what's your story?"

Matt shrugged.

"What's your name?" he said.

"Krystal," she said.

"Maybe I should ask you for some ID," he said, almost belligerently.

"I'll show it to you if you want, Hon, but Krystal is the name my Momma gave
me," she said. "And I'm wondering what your Momma thinks about you being out
this late."

Matt shot her an angry look. Jackpot, she thought.

"I don't care what that bitch thinks," he growled.

"So you had a nasty fight with your Momma, and you stormed out of the house,
taking the car. Probably without her permission. And now she's sitting at
home worrying about when you're going to come back," Krystal said.

"I thought I picked up a prostitute, not a fortune-teller," he snapped.

"Is it true, Matthew?" she said firmly, the maternal tone sneaking back in.

"Look, are we going to have sex?" he said.

"No," she said, "but come here and sit next to me on the bed."

He sighed, but he went over and sat next to her. She took his hand and forced
him to look into her eyes.

"You seem like a very put-together young man," she said, "but it seems like
you're straying off of a healthy path. What was the fake ID for, Matthew?"

"Beer, mostly," he said. It kind of felt good to tell her the truth, although
he wasn't quite sure why.

"She treats me like I'm a baby. She has all these stupid rules and she never
listens to me," he said, pouting.

"Do you talk to her?" Krystal said. "Do you go to her when you're confused or
you have a problem?"

"No," he said.

"How can she listen to you if you don't talk to her?" Krystal said, and he
didn't answer. "Did you fight about anything specific?"

"She doesn't like my friends, and she's making me to take these stupid college
prep classes over the summer instead of just leaving me alone to hang out," he
complained.

"Why doesn't she like your friends?"

"Well, we do things together," he said, slowly.

"What things?"

"It's not important," Matt said, quickly.

"Dangerous things?"

She gave him plenty of time to respond, and realized after a while that he
wasn't going to tell her.

"I'm going to tell you what I think, and then I'm going to tell you what you
need," she said, and he sighed. "I think that you're a bright young man who's
on a dangerous path. You're trying to grow up too fast, and in the process
you're engaging in behavior that is unhealthy even for adults. Drinking beer
and doing god knows what else with your friends is not healthy. Going to a
prostitute when you're mad at your mother is not healthy. Beer, when used to
drown your problems, can turn you into an alcoholic. And going to
prostitute-," she paused. "Honey, most of us have scary sexually transmitted
diseases, especially the ones who'll take any client and who can't afford
regular check ups."

"Do you have an STD?"

"No," she said. "But you still don't know for sure; you only have my word to
go by. I could be lying about it. I know girls who have."

Matt sighed. He was watching her slender hands, wondering where she was going
with this little speech.

"I think you're trying to grow up too fast, and I think you need to be
reminded that you're still a child," Krystal said. "So I think I should give
you a spanking."

"What?" he said, jumping up.

"Your Momma obviously is having a hard time controlling you right now, so I
think that a good spanking's in order," she said, calmly and gently, like a
mother lightly scolding a four-year-old child.

"You-, you can't," he sputtered, his face turning bright red.

"I can, and I'm going to," she said, pulling a flat-backed, wooden hairbrush
from her purse. She straightened her back and patted her right thigh. Matt
backed away.

"You can't," he said.

"You may be sixteen, young man, but I don't think you want to pit your
strength against mine," she said, firmly. "Come over my lap, now."

Matt stood for a few minutes, weighing his options. He could bolt out the
door, but then he noticed his ID on the bed next to her. If he bolted, she
could find his house and tell his mother. As angry as he was at his mother, it
would shatter her if she knew he went to a prostitute.

"Look, what if I just pay you, and then we can both part," he
said, nervously. "I promise I won't go to a prostitute again."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Matthew, but this is long overdue. If you
are not over my lap in five seconds, I'll pull you over my lap myself."

He took a step towards her, unsure. He started to feel very small and very
humiliated. He lay down across her lap, and she adjusted him so his bottom was
positioned over her right thigh. A wave of memories flooded back to him all at
once; memories of the very few times he was over his mother's knee when he was
four and five. His toes touched the floor now, but he felt the tears well up
in his eyes like they used to before his mother started spanking him.

"Good boy," she said, gently, patting his firm bottom. "Now, Matthew, I want
you to understand that I'm spanking you because I think you need to remember
that you're still young and still in need of guidance."

That slender hand that he had been watching before rose and delivered a firm
slap to his bottom. He jumped a little. He didn't expect her to be so strong.

Her hand came down like rapid fire on the seat of his pants. He felt his
bottom grow warm under her tireless hand, but it didn't hurt too much.

Krystal stopped for a moment.

"Okay, the pants need to come down," she said.

"No way," he said, and suddenly felt a sharp crack against his bottom. He
jumped and cried out.

"You are being punished, Matthew. Don't argue," she said, firmly. "Now,
stand up and pull down your pants."

He stood up and noticed she was holding the hairbrush.

"Are you going to-," he said, nervously.

"Spank you with the hairbrush? Yes," she said.

"But-, but-,"

"Don't make me pull down your pants, Matthew," she said, and he unbuttoned his
fly and pulled his pants down to his ankles, like he had to do once when he was
five. He resumed his position back over Krystal's lap. She started to spank
him firmly over his briefs.

"Can you imagine how worried your Momma is right now?" she said, her slaps
increasing in intensity. "It's one am, she doesn't have any idea where her
little boy is, and she's probably very upset over the argument you had."

Matthew didn't say anything; he just sighed. He was fighting the tears. The
force of her striking hand, the growing warmth on his bottom, and the
comforting, childlike position he was in made him think about all the times his
Momma spanked him. The only times she did it was when he was caught doing
something dangerous. During those times, he remembered being angry at her for
it, but now he started to realize that she did it because she cared about what
happened to him.

"I'm going to switch to the hairbrush now," Krystal said. "This is going to
hurt an awful lot, so if you need to cry, go right ahead. No need to put on a
macho front for me."

He was already crying very softly. Not out of pain, but out of sorrow. When
he felt the crack of the hairbrush against his bottom, he jumped and cried out.

He started to kick and scream as the hairbrush descended rapidly against the
seat of his briefs.

"I'm sorry!" he cried. "Please!"

"I know you're sorry, honey," she said, gently, continuing the paddling. "But
this is long overdue, and I need to make sure that this is going to put you on
the right path."

Krystal stopped spanking him and put the hairbrush beside her. She rubbed his
back as he sniffled.

"The briefs have to come down now, honey," she said, very gently.

"No-," he sobbed. "No more. I'm sorry. No more."

She slipped her fingers under the elastic of his briefs and lowered them to
his knees. He bottom was already quite red and felt warm to the touch.

"I'm going to spank you with my hand, and then we're going to have fifteen
good smacks with the hairbrush," she said.

"No-," he said, lying limp across her lap. Part of him knew he needed this
spanking, but his bottom felt very sore and tender. He wasn't sure if he could
handle fifteen smacks with the hairbrush.

Krystal's hand struck Matt's bare bottom, causing him to lurch. His hands
flew up to cover his bottom, only to be pinned against the small of his back.

"Oh, no, Matthew," she said. "I know it hurts, but take your punishment like
a good boy or I'll have to spank you a little longer."

He kicked and cried as her hand rapidly struck his bare bottom. Crimson
handprints began to appear all over both cheeks. She slowed down a little and
rubbed his bottom.

"Almost done," she cooed. "I'm going to give you fifteen hard smacks with the
hairbrush, and I want you to count them."

"But-," he said, and she sent a hard smack across his bottom with the
hairbrush. "Okay! Okay!" he cried.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

SMACK. "Owwwww! One."

SPANK. "Oooo! Two."

SMACK. "Three." His voice was nearly incoherent through his sobs.

SMACK. "Four." SPANK. "Five."

Although Matt could barely articulate the numbers through his sobs, he counted
each spank of the hairbrush. When Krystal finished, she rubbed his back and
his tender, crimson bottom.

"Good job," she said, gently. "I know you're a good boy."

He lay limply across her lap and cried his heart out. He felt so badly about
everything he had done, and all the worry he had caused his mother over the
past couple of years.

"You can get up now if you want, Hon," she said, gently, and Matt stood up
slowly, pulling up his briefs and his pants. He hugged her.

"Thank you," he said.

"Oh, my. You're welcome."

"Where do you need to go?" he said, tenderly, feeling so much appreciation for
her.

"You can just bring me back to where you found me," she said.

They checked out of the motel and got into the car.

"This is what I want you to do," Krystal said. "I want you to go home, hug
your Momma, tell her you're sorry, and talk to her. I'm sure she'll listen to
everything you have to say."

"I will," he said. "Do you-, do this for your other clients?"

"Not all of them. Just the ones that need direction, like college students
who are failing out of school because of partying too much or middle aged men
with marital problems who think they can solve their problems by cheating on
their wife. And very occasionally, I run into teenagers like you."

He pulled over to the curb where he picked Krystal up. There was no one
there.